Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Hamilton Hall is all the way across campus near the Widow Maker, and it usually takes a full fifteen minutes to make the hike.
This morning, it’s going to take more than twenty since I keep tugging Chase to a halt to look at all the things I’ve missed.
Students and professors out for early jogs or walks.
The Science Center, where I go for most of my classes this semester.
And the small snack shop that serves the eastern side of campus.
I watch as a fat feral cat chases a lizard into the mulch ring around the Widow Maker. It stops short, then hisses, its fur standing on end as it makes a low noise and backs away slowly.
I almost laugh. The cat’s probably gotten so spoiled by handouts that a lizard breakfast just isn’t gonna cut it for him anymore.
By the time we reach my dorm, the sun’s made its way over the horizon, casting everything in a misty glow that feels almost magical.
I pull Chase to a halt, both so that I can take a moment and to get out of the path of two girls in workout gear who jog past us, ponytails swinging, as they gossip about someone named Devon who apparently sucks.
I smile. It’s good to be back.
Chase and I hurry up the steps, then I spit out a mild curse, realizing that I don’t have my key card. Apparently, whatever magic clothed me when we crossed over didn’t think about housing access.
“Here,” Chase says, reaching up into the empty air and retrieving it for me.
“Handy trick,” I say.
“Just don’t abuse it.”
I’m about to tease him when my mind decodes his words. “Seriously? I can do that?”
“Right now? No. But it will come. You’re descended from the emperor, and you’re no longer bound to the Real.
The power that’s always been locked in you will start to come out.
Mostly, it will manifest in the other realms, but don’t be surprised if it shows up a little bit here, too.
” He shoots me a crooked grin. “But Tia will probably have more than you when she gets it back.”
“When,” I repeat. “Not if?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“But we’ll try?” I press. “It’s like her parents muzzled her. It isn’t right.”
“It’s not,” he says, taking my hand, then kissing my palm. “And you are an amazing woman. And a very good friend.”
“Thanks,” I say, wishing I could just give whatever buried magic I have to Tia. But it doesn’t work that way. That magic is mine, and maybe it’s my imagination, but now that Chase has clued me in, I think I can feel the potential inside me. The power that’s coming. It’s not here yet—but it will be.
So, yeah, me and myself have some introspection in our future. And Chase better start doubling down on teaching me just who the hell I am. Already, my reality is weird. But magic and me in the Real? That still feels too strange to believe.
I start to tap the card on the keypad, then hesitate as I look at Chase. “Are you coming up?”
He shakes his head. “I’m reasonably confident that Tia likes me. But I doubt she wants me there when she wakes up.”
He has a point.
His hand finds mine once again, and he lifts it to his lips, then kisses it softly. “I need to go home. I need to check in with my team. Mostly, I need to give you time to be with your friend.”
I nod, then rise on my toes to brush a soft kiss over his lips. “Find me later?”
He cups my cheek. “I will always find you.” Then he brushes his finger over my lips, turns, and descends the steps, walking away without looking back.
I watch until I lose him in the shadows and buildings, unsure if he’s used magic to poof into his apartment or if he’s simply moved out of my line of sight.
I suppose it doesn’t matter. For now, at least, I’m back to being Cora-the-Freshman.
And that Cora taps the keycard against the reader, listens for the click, then steps over the threshold and into home.
I enter our room quietly, rightly figuring that Tia will still be asleep.
And two points to me for winning that bet, because there she is, burrowed under her comforter with only the top of her head visible, a tangle of rainbow-colored hair against the pink pillowcase.
The curtains are open, but the tree outside our window blocks most of the early light, so the only illumination comes from the fairy lights she’d strung five seconds after we moved in.
The whole room smells like sage and other herbs I can’t name, but which give our room the scent of home.
I have to battle back the urge to bounce onto her bed and yell I’M HOME and have her hit me with a pillow, then hug me until my ribs hurt.
But she’s out cold. And as much as I want my best friend, I can grudgingly let her sleep a little longer.
I plop down onto my bed and slide off my shoes, then find my towel, shower flip-flops, and bathroom bucket right where I left them.
I snatch up fresh clothes, then head out of the room and take the longest, hottest shower in the history of the universe.
I stand under the water until my skin goes red and the steam fills the entire communal space.
By the time I get out, dry off, and have changed into the shorts and tee I’d grabbed, I’m pretty sure I’ve washed off every smidgeon of Nightmare dust.
When I come back, she hasn’t moved, so I plunk myself down on the side of my bed, grab my very, very charged phone from where she must have plugged it in days ago, then start scrolling through emails and texts while I wait for her to wake the freak up.
After an hour, I turn on some music, but keep it mostly soft, because I’m a good friend and know I shouldn’t wake her.
After another thirty minutes, I’m starting to get over the whole good friend thing. I mean, soldiers are jolted awake, right? So it must build character.
With the power of the US military now behind me, I start rearranging the clothes in my dresser, making a point of slamming the drawers shut, just to be sure they stay closed.
Fifteen minutes later, I find the hand-held vac and suck up the crumbs on the floor between our beds.
She sleeps through it all.
Honestly, the girl could win a gold medal in the Sleep Olympics.
I’m seriously reconsidering that bed-bouncing thing when she rolls over and makes a noise somewhere between a snore and a snort.
Then her phone alarm rings. She groans, managing to both find the phone and shut it off without opening her eyes or noticing me.
Enough.
“Tia,” I whisper.
“Fimo minets.” The words—or semi-words—are barely audible.
“Tia.” This time I yell her name, and, finally, she sits bolt upright.
“What the hell, Cora? I was—” Her mouth snaps shut, and her eyes go wide. Then she launches herself off the bed and onto me, her arms wrapping around me in a suffocating hug as we tumble backwards onto my bed.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” she squeals as she wraps me in a hug so tight I can barely breathe.
“Hello to you, too,” I say. “Need air now.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” She shifts so that we can both sit up, then grabs my hand again, as if she’s afraid I’m going to slide through another slit in the universe any second now.
“You’re here.”
“You noticed.”
She grabs one of my throw pillows and smacks me with it. Then again and again and again until I finally knock it out of her hand and pull her in for another hug.
“I know,” I say. “I missed you, too.”
Her breathing slows, and she looks me up and down. “We’ve been so worried,” she says. “Not knowing. It was like hell.” Her brow furrows. “Oh, god. Have you actually been to hell? Is that what the Nightmare Realm really is? Hell?”
I shake my head. “No. Except it felt like it at times.” I draw a breath. “Whistler died. Wolves.” I shudder. “Horrible, terrible wolves.”
The color drains from her face. “No,” she whispers.
I nod. “We want to have a memorial. We haven’t yet. We wanted you there. Riley, too.”
She takes my hand and nods, a single tear sliding down her cheek.
For a moment, we’re both silent. Then her fingers tighten.
“I’m not going to classes today, and neither are you.
We’re staying right here, and you’re telling me everything.
We have coffee and snacks and wine if needed.
But we aren’t leaving this room until you’ve spilled it all. Yes?”
“Hell, yes,” I say, relaxing as another bit of fear slides out of me. The hidden, unspoken fear that while I’d been gone, she’d decided she’d had enough of this Realm stuff. Or that she didn’t need me now that she had Riley.
“Hang on,” she says, then grabs her phone, taps out a text, and tosses it back on her mattress. “Riley,” she says. “I was supposed to meet her for breakfast, but we’ll catch her later.”
I look down to hide my smile. “Yeah,” I say, “we’ll fill her in on everything then.”
“But me now,” Tia says firmly. “I mean ten days. Ten long days. Do you have any idea how freaked out I was?”
“I know. I’m sorry. If it makes a difference, it hasn’t been that long for me. Only a few days.” I hunch my shoulders. “But those days were seriously packed. I mean, like huge. I have a lot to tell you.” I make a puppy dog face. “Forgive me, and I’ll give you the full scoop.”
She crosses her arms. “You, my friend, will tell me every dirty detail, or I will scour the earth to get my magic back and turn you into a toad. Worse, I’ll name you Fluffy and all the other toads will mock you.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
“Of course. But don’t tell Riley. She’s the jealous type.”
“Deal,” I say, as she catches me in another hug.
“Seriously,” she says. “I’m so glad you’re back. And safe. I burned so much sage that the RA threatened to call the fire department. And every day I went to Griff’s to see if we could find any hint of you guys with the equipment.”
I fight a smile. “I’m surprised Mr. Griffin didn’t tell me.”
She pulls back. Her eyes are red, and yesterday’s mascara is clearly not the waterproof kind. “You went to Griff first?”
“He was up. You weren’t.” I hesitate, then look at my fingernails. “Also, I had to tell him about Whistler.”
“Yeah,” she says softly. “I get that.” She sucks in a breath. “But you’re here, and you’re safe, and I feel horrible about Whistler, but so, so relieved about you.”
“I missed you.”
She nods, sniffs, then wipes her face on the sleeve of her sleep shirt.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I think we definitely need coffee.”
She heaves herself up, grabs her electric kettle off my desk, and fills it from our in-room sink. While her back is to me, I take a moment to soak up the strangeness. This is where I wanted to come. It’s where and who I want to be. A normal girl with a normal life.
And yet being here makes reality hit all the harder. I’m not normal. And while this may be home for now, I don’t have a clue what realm I’ll eventually call my own.
When she comes back, I force away my confusion and melancholy. It’s not a hard task—after all, this is Tia. My bestie. The girl who can always, always make me laugh.
Now, she climbs onto the foot of my bed and folds her legs under her like she’s settling in for a long story.
“Talk,” she says.
“Where do I start?”
“Try the beginning. That’s a time-honored tradition.”
“That’s a lot.”
“I’m blowing off everything until I’ve heard it all. So just blurt it out however you want. But catch me up, okay?”
I nod. Then I take a breath and do the thing I came here to do.